


Dearest

by Imogen_LeFay



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverging from 4x04, Klaine Breakup, Lost and Found Book, M/M, Not A Bookshop AU, blamtina friendship, season 4!au, seblaine endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_LeFay/pseuds/Imogen_LeFay
Summary: Life was so much easier, when Blaine was a child, sitting with his Grandma reading to him from her old copy of Little Lord Fauntleroy.Now, he’s in his senior year, trying to find his way in a school that doesn’t feel like home, the person he thought was his soulmate forgetting him, and slowly losing the idea of who he is. He’s almost at rock bottom, when two unexpected thins re-appear in his life, and just might turn things around – an all too familiar book, and Sebastian Smythe.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 28
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What's that? New multi-chapter story when your last WIP isn't even technically finished yet?  
> ...yeah, well, I decided to let loose on the rules. Cause writing is about joy, you know? And this sparks joy with me. Hope it will do the same for you!  
> As always, hope you enjoy, and would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Inspired by the movie Definitely, Maybe.

* * *

_now_

If Blaine ever felt lower than this, he doesn’t quite remember. It’s getting dark outside, and he wonders how long he’s going to sit here, the inside of his car getting cooler to the point of discomfort. He should probably call his mom to come pick him up, but he knows she’s busy, and somehow, deep down, he still hopes that whatever made his car break down might be easy to fix.

It would save him the embarrassment of having his mom come and get him. But he already knows that it will do nothing to take away from the shame he’s only beginning to feel.

His phone buzzes. He can just so see Eli’s name before the screen gets dark again, and he feels like throwing up. He can’t even bring himself to take his phone and look at the message. Maybe Eli’s checking in on when he’s going to arrive, by now already late for their meeting.

Who is he kidding?

He may have been able to tell himself every white lie and excuse in the book about how it’s innocent, just someone he got talking to, and that’s all that would happen tonight, talking.

But now, sitting in his broken down car in one of Lima’s minor shopping districts, it’s very obvious what’s going on. Eli sent him a booty call, and he came running.

He notices on some level that Eli’s place isn’t far. He could probably walk there, and maybe get a ride home. But just the thought makes him even sicker. Just when he thinks he can’t feel more ashamed of himself, he’s almost blinded by the lights of a tow truck. He squints his eyes, until he sees the words written on the vehicle.

Hummel Tires and Lube.

If Burt steps out of the truck right now, he thinks he’s going to just die. Blaine closes his eyes and wishes to be anywhere else in the world. There’s a knocking against his window, and he needs a moment to face the judgment.

It’s Mitch, one of the guys from the garage that Blaine’s had a few conversations with. He remembers then that Burt is in Washington. Small mercies…

Mitch is amicable enough, taking a look at the engine before dashing Blaine’s hope. He’ll definitely have to take the car in. He offers him a ride, but Blaine declines. He doesn’t feel like he can sit down in Burt’s truck, accept any other kindness, not when what he was about to do weighs on his heart like it’s going to pull him under the surface.

Only when the tow truck leaves, Blaine starts thinking about what that means. It’s way too far to walk home. Both his parents are still at work. He’d honestly rather get a ride with his dad – way less likely to ask questions and look through any excuses he might think of – but there’s a work conference and those tend to get really late. For a moment he considers calling someone from McKinley, but he doesn’t feel close enough to any of them. Besides, they’ll ask questions, and what is he supposed to answer?

He decides to push back the matter, and he starts walking. He tries desperately not to think of Kurt, and what he was about to do. Without a doubt, he would have destroyed what’s left of their relationship. Pulled the plug, so to speak. He can see Kurt’s face in front of his inner eye, hurt and confused, and slowly, turning angry.

And all of it would be deserved.

So what if Blaine’s been lonely? How could that ever excuse even thinking about cheating?

And the thing is… this isn’t him! He’s never thought cheating is acceptable under any circumstances. After all, if you want someone else, just break up with the person you’re with. Then again… it’s not that, is it? He doesn’t want Eli, and hasn’t really wanted him when he got into his car earlier. It’s more about feeling connected in some way, now that Kurt seems to have moved on so completely that he barely remembers Blaine exists most days.

Oh, but he would have taken note of this.

Maybe that’s the saddest thing, but most importantly, Blaine knows it’s not an excuse. There is none, really.

He wishes he could turn back time to earlier in the day, and decline Eli’s invitation. Earlier than that, to before Kurt has left – not to keep him from leaving, just to have a bit more time, and maybe actually make him listen and remind him that Blaine’s still here, still waiting for him.

But at some part, he knows it wouldn’t change anything. He’s known this for months, after all, even if Kurt didn’t want to hear it.

His boyfriend is out in the real world, in New York, with a job and new friends, and just simply more interesting things than a high school boyfriend stuck in Nowhere, Ohio. And honestly, who can blame him?

Blaine isn’t sure how long he’s been walking, but suddenly he realizes that the street seems familiar. It takes him until the next block to understand why. There’s a coffee shop nearby. A good one, supposedly, though he’s never been. He remembers it, that day, last year, when the Lima Bean was unexpectedly closed. Just for a second, his heart beats a bit faster, as it all comes back to him – the sudden downpour, getting soaked, Sebastian swearing until they stumbled into that antique shop, the only thing open around them, and then looking at each other, like the hilarity of their situation just became obvious, and laughing…

Both thoughts feel like a betrayal right now, Sebastian and the laughing. And still, Blaine’s feet move as if on auto-pilot.

The shop is still there, still open. Everything looks just like the last two times he’s been here. It is weird, how it could still be in business, and Blaine recalls Sebastian’s words about money laundering. But it’s warm in here, and bright, and maybe it’s just what he needs.

He explicitly doesn’t look at the books, although suddenly, he wonders… It wasn’t here last time, and it’s basically impossible for it to be here now, but really, wouldn’t that just be the perfect thing to top off the day he’s having?

He’s half turned towards the books, when he hears a voice.

“Blaine?”

Right in the doorway is Nick, looking at him in surprise. He comes closer, and a smile appears on his face.

“I thought it was you,” he said, “I saw you from outside. What are you doing here?”

That pit of shame opens up in his stomach, and he can feel his face flush. He tries to push it down, but he knows it’s not completely successful. Still, he puts on a smile, before he answers with a shrug. “My car broke down.”

“Wow, that sucks,” Nick says. “We were just trying out this coffee place down the road? Sebastian’s pretty fond of it.”

It’s not like Blaine hasn’t noticed that Sebastian’s visits to the Lima Bean have become basically non-existent, and somehow, he feels guilty for this as well. Then again, he’d probably feel guilty for any sacks of rice falling right now as well.

“You know, we came in two cars,” Nick continues. “I’m sure we can give you a ride.”

It’s probably the best thing Blaine’s heard all day, and he can feel the relief pouring out of him as he nods and thanks Nick. His old Warbler friends certainly won’t ask him any questions.

They’re halfway out the door, when the clerk calls out to them.

Blaine frowns at the girl walking up to him. Then, he notices the book she’s holding in her hand. He doesn’t even have to look at the title printed in golden letters on a moss green cover, knows that underneath it there are the silhouettes of a little child and an old man. Little Lord Fauntleroy.

He remembers this book.

It wasn’t there the last time he came here. He knows it’s been gone, and even then, it wasn’t the one he’s been looking for all these years.

And still, here it is, in the arms of the young clerk who’s looking at him full of excitement, like there’s anything good about today.

“Sorry, I heard him call… your name’s Blaine?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just… okay, we get a lot of old books, and I love looking through all of them, because sometimes you find something. Like little scribbles or stuff…”

“Okay,” Blaine said, nodding patiently, as if this is going somewhere.

“Well, in this book – I found a whole letter. It’s written on the first page, just really lovely. And it starts with your name, actually.”

Blaine freezes, staring at the book in her hands.

It’s been three years. Can it be?

“Blaine, Dearest-“, she begins, but he waves her off. For a moment, she looks hurt, then embarrassed, and Blaine wishes he could just disappear into nothing, because clearly human interaction isn’t something he’s capable of anymore.

“I’ll take it,” he says.

He tries to ignore the way Nick’s looking at him, as the girl smiles again. He pays, and then he holds it in his hands. It’s not a thick book, especially given the larger format it’s printed in, but it feels heavy as a ton of bricks in his hands. He smiles at the girl as he puts it back into his messenger bag.

Maybe he should get it over with and read it right here?

“What’s that about?” Nick asks.

“Nothing,” Blaine says, avoiding his eyes.

“Sure,” Nick says, dragging the word out a few more beats than necessary, but as expected, he doesn’t dig any further. “Let’s go, then.”

* * *

_then_

It was sunny outside, warm, and absolutely gorgeous – the perfect weather to lounge around a pool, have some lemonade, listen to music, and occasionally jump into the water for some refreshment.

Well, they had music, and iced tea, so that was something.

Kurt was lying on his bed, going through some fashion magazine while taking notes for fall outfits, and occasionally discussing the current trends with Blaine. It seemed a bit early for all that, but really, Blaine was just happy they had some time to hang out. The door was half open, and he could hear Burt and Carole downstairs, their conversation a distant hum. Obviously, they couldn’t do much right now, but he knew by now how this went. They just had to wait for the right moment when they could get away with making out for a bit, an ear always trained towards the door and parental steps. It made the whole thing seem kind of forbidden, which honestly was more exciting than it probably should be. At least that was what Blaine told himself. They didn’t exactly discuss these makeout sessions, Kurt still closing off any time the conversation went even anywhere near sex. That was fine, though. They’d get there.

The next song came on, and Blaine found himself grinning.

“I love this song so much,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be an amazing idea for a competition? I mean, imagine the Warblers doing an acapella version of that… Wouldn’t that sound awesome?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt said, his face scrunched up in a frown, “that doesn’t really sound like something the council would agree on.”

“Who knows, maybe I’m on the council next year,” Blaine said with an easy shrug.

“Really? That’s something you’re interested in?”

Blaine hesitated, but shook his head eventually. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t get in if I tried.”

“That’s ridiculous, the Warblers might as well worship the ground you walk on,” Kurt said. “Seriously, sometimes it felt like the council didn’t even know the names of any other Warblers.”

“It’s just something Wes said. I mentioned it to him last year, but he thought it wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“Well, it’s not like he’ll be there to oppose you,” Kurt said with a shrug.

“It’s just… it’s usually frowned upon for council members to be the soloist, especially at competitions. He thought it would be best to keep my options open.”

“Well… the Warblers are quite rigid in their traditions,” Kurt said, “but Wes has a point there. It would be a shame for you to hide your talent away.”

Blaine wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. The compliment filled him with warmth, but it stood in a contrast to a lot of comments Kurt had made while still being at Dalton, when he’d seemed mostly annoyed by the distribution of solos.

“Either way, I’m afraid this will remain a private performance,” Kurt continued, “unless the council changes completely, and let’s be real, that’s as likely as Puck becoming valedictorian.”

“Probably,” Blaine said, “but I’ll live. I have absolutely no problem with performing in private.” The song changed, and Blaine couldn’t keep sitting still. He moved to the music at first, but eventually just had to get up and dance around. It might be silly, but really, there was nothing wrong with being silly in front of his boyfriend. Also, it was summer, everything was alright, and this was the time to get up and actually move.

Kurt looked up at him with a bemused expression, willing to humor him. “The Warblers won’t know what they’re missing,” he said, “although I could definitely see the New Directions appreciating it.”

Blaine had to focus not to miss a beat. It wasn’t nearly subtle enough, at least not for a repeated pitch. Maybe he should have known this was going there again. It had started in the early summer with hints and gentle pushing, until Kurt had finally come out with it and asked how he’d feel about transferring schools. Blaine had thought it was a joke at first, but apparently, he’d been wrong. The comments were coming more frequently, sometimes easy jokes, suggestions to talk to his parents, very often comparisons between the Warblers and New Directions…

So far, Blaine was successful enough in dodging the questions, pointing to his parents if he really couldn’t get out of it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the plus sides – seeing his boyfriend more often, of course, as even the short time at the end of last term after Kurt had transferred back had been a bit tough, but also the possibilities New Directions seemed to offer – creativity and individuality, not being bound by traditions and rules… it was intriguing, but not enough that Blaine was convinced it would be worth leaving his home or the Warblers over it. It was a big decision, and Blaine wasn’t ready to make it yet, so he kept deflecting the questions, changing the topic whenever he could.

He was still thinking of a better topic, and for a moment was too distracted to see where his movements were taking him, until he walked into the dresser. He bit his tongue not to swear, even as a sharp pain flashed through his leg.

“I’m fine,” he said, as Kurt got up. But his boyfriend seemed more concerned about the dresser. “It’s fine,” Blaine added.

“Sorry,” Kurt said, “it’s just… that was my mom’s.”

Blaine remembered conversations about that, how important just the smell of his mother’s perfume still was to Kurt.

“No, I know,” he said. This was after all one of the few memories his boyfriend had of his mother. “It’s sweet. I think it’s great that you have something from her, something that reminds you so much. I sometimes wish…” He stopped. This wasn’t about him.

But Kurt had picked up on it. “What is it?”

For a moment, Blaine hesitated whether he should share this story. But eventually, he realized there was no reason not to. So he sat back down on the bed with Kurt and started talking.

“When I was a kid, my grandmother used to read me this book, Little Lord Fauntleroy. It was kind of our thing, our special time. I don’t even know how often she read it. I can still remember it so clearly. She had this rocking chair, and it was just so wide enough for me to squeeze in with her. She’d put on a record of the Nutcracker suite, and then she’d put a blanket over us and tuck us in and start reading. She always promised that she’d write me a dedication into the book, and one day I’d inherit it. Not that I really understood the concept of death and inheritance back then…” He sighed, looking down.

“It’s a sweet story,” Kurt said. “What did she write?”

“I… actually never found out,” Blaine answered. “When she died, I couldn’t be there. I was in the hospital at the time. Couldn’t even go to her funeral. Once I was released, I asked my family about the book. But my brother, Cooper… he didn’t know about it and he had put the book into a donation box. It was brought into some antique shop or other, and he couldn’t remember which one it was, so… I never found the book again.”

“Wait, so… that book is somewhere out there? Maybe you could still find it,” Kurt said.

“It’s not that I didn’t try,” Blaine said, “I look whenever I pass an antique store. But so far I had no luck.”

“So, it’s like in that movie? Definitely, Maybe?”

“Yeah, kind of like that,” Blaine said. He smiled, and tried to look careless. It had been a while since he thought of his grandmother, and the thoughts were best described as bittersweet. “We should watch it some time.”

It wasn’t exactly the most subtle change of topic, but thankfully, it worked. A few minutes later, they were in the middle of planning a movie night with Kurt’s friends, all thoughts about his grandmother or even transferring schools forgotten. After all, why waste time on darkness, when they could just enjoy these days of summer?

* * *

_now_

When they step out of the bookshop, it’s already getting dark outside. Nick starts telling him about that weird crush Thad had developed on Mademoiselle Dupont, and Blaine tries to listen, but his thoughts have spiraled into even more of a turmoil. The book is heavy in his messenger bag, but it’s nothing compared to how shaky the ground feels underneath his feet. As if he wasn’t enough of a mess already, now his grandmother has stepped into his mind. His pulse is loud in his own ears, almost ringing, and he isn’t even sure what he’s afraid of the most. What he almost did… Kurt’s reaction… his grandmother’s judgment… He isn’t sure how this day could get any more confusing.

Nick leads him to a small parking lot, where a group of Dalton students is standing around two cars. Someone spots them, and then…

“About time, what’s keeping him so long?”

Blaine stops at the sound of his voice, even as his eyes immediately find his form, tall and lanky, turning his head in annoyance, and even with several feet between them, he’s frozen under Sebastian’s eyes.

“Look who I ran into!” Nick says, and the rest of the group takes notice. There are greetings all around, but Blaine still finds it hard to look away from those eyes.

Of course, it can get more complicated.

“If it isn’t the prodigal brother,” Sebastian said, his eyes quickly scanning down the line of Blaine’s body, before settling back on his face. There’s the hint of a crease on his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“My car broke down, had to be towed,” Blaine answers.

He gets sympathy and condolences from the rest of the group, especially Jeff.

“And I figured we might give him a ride,” Nick said.

“What about curfew?” Thad asked. “We’re already playing it pretty close, and if we’re late…”

“I’ll take him,” Sebastian said. “Nick can take the rest of you.”

“You know his car isn’t meant for five people,” Trent whines.

“Do I look like I care? Just get in the car,” Sebastian replied. As careless as the words sounded, his voice didn’t sound mean at all.

“Is that okay for you?” Jeff asks.

It takes Blaine a moment to realize the question goes to him, and suddenly he realizes just what he’s about to get into, just the icing on the cake that is today, a car ride of minimum half an hour, alone with Sebastian.

But he can’t decline now, not without being insanely rude or giving some sort of explanation that he knows he won’t be able to come up with on short notice. So he smiles and nods, makes sure to thank Sebastian and apologize for any form of inconvenience.

As he sits down in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car and closes the door, he’s pretty sure this is the most exhausting day of his life.

With a clap of thunder, the rain starts falling.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on tumblr as imogenlefay


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is an early update - again, this story is going to be a bit slower, but I wanted to give Sebastian a bit more presence before I don't know how long till the next chapter.

* * *

_now_

The rain is hitting the windshield, and combined with the fading light, it’s an utterly bleak sight. The heat is on, and physically, Blaine isn’t uncomfortable. Sebastian is silent beside him, focusing on the traffic. Occasionally, he adjusts the heat setting. Blaine isn’t sure whether the silence is a blessing. It’s awkward in a way it’s never been between them, and Blaine feels uneasy, but he knows he won’t fare too well in a conversation right now. Still, the guilt of what he was about to do is burning through his skin, ready to burst at the slightest poke. It would be bad enough talking to anyone. Sebastian though, who’s so much more observant than most, who’s shown how easily he can see right through Blaine’s defenses…

He shudders at the thought and keeps his eyes strictly on his hands.

Without even a glance to the side, Sebastian turns the heat up just a bit more.

It’s the longest drive he remembers, but eventually, it comes to an end. But even once Sebastian pulls up in front of Blaine’s house, they just sit there, the silence among them only interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the car. Blaine knows, he should just thank him and leave, but he feels like he can’t get up, can’t even move. He feels stuck in time, and in place.

“I wasn’t hitting on you.”

Blaine startles, hasn’t expected him to say anything by now. But as he processes the words, he doesn’t understand where they’re even coming from. All Sebastian has done was offer him a ride, and nobody would misunderstand this. What else could he be talking about? Last year, after they met? Because… that would be a lie.

“When I texted you,” Sebastian clarifies, clearly picking up on Blaine’s confusion.

He remembers now, just one text at the beginning of the schoolyear. It seemed trivial at the time, just asking how his summer’s been and if he wanted to get coffee some time. He thought about it back then, but then things got too distracting, sending Kurt off to New York, helping Brittany, the election. And lately… well, he’s thought about it a few times. But he knew he couldn’t go and meet Sebastian, not when Kurt’s absence was like an open wound in his mind, and he’s always been so susceptible to Sebastian’s flattery, no matter how much he denied it.

“I didn’t think you were,” Blaine says eventually, once he realizes Sebastian is still waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry for not writing back.”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian says.

They sit there in silence, and Blaine knows, he could just get out. He doesn’t.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to see you,” he says. “It’s just been… busy.”

Sebastian hums, and clearly doesn’t buy it, but apparently, he’s willing to give Blaine an out. Or maybe he doesn’t care enough.

Who does, anyway?

The thought hits Blaine like a punch to the gut. What is he even doing? He’s left Dalton, where he was at home, and had his friends, to follow Kurt to a school that still feels strange even after a year… but Kurt has moved on, left him behind and by now basically doesn’t seem to remember Blaine exists. He doesn’t actually feel close to anyone in New Directions, but he can’t just go back to the Warblers. What does he even have now?

He knows what he needs to do – get a grip on himself, thank Sebastian for the ride, and save the breakdown for until after he’s inside his home. Instead, he feels paralyzed.

The tears are so close to the surface, he’s almost completely certain he won’t be able to hold them in.

“Blaine?”

He doesn’t turn, but from the corner of his eyes he sees Sebastian turning towards him, frowning.

“It’s nothing,” Blaine says, and tries to drag up a smile from somewhere.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sebastian replies.

Blaine shakes his head. “You don’t want me to get into this,” he says. His voice is so close to breaking.

“I mean, the longer I’m here the less time Johns gets to complain about having to ride in Nick’s car, so…” Sebastian shrugs. “Besides, you really look like you need to talk to someone.”

“It’s just… it’s not been easy,” Blaine says, still avoiding to meet his eye. “Kurt is in New York, he has this internship at Vogue, and… I’m proud of him, of course, but it feels like…” He stops, bites his tongue, because he _knows_ this is ridiculous, and he can just imagine how cynical Sebastian would react to something this stupid.

But Sebastian is silent, waiting for him to continue.

“He has this whole life, and New York, and a job…”

“Internships aren’t jobs,” Sebastian interrupts.

“It’s something,” Blaine says, “but the point is, I feel like I’m not part of it in any way. And I know he has things to focus on, and of course New York is more interesting than whatever I can tell him about McKinley, and literally nobody ever said that long distance relationships are easy… I just sometimes feel like he’s forgotten I exist. And he-“

He stops himself, can’t believe he was about to whine to Sebastian about what Kurt _promised_ him. It’s probably the last thing the Warbler is interested in.

“So what’s special about today?” Sebastian asks. “Some kind of anniversary or something?”

Now, Blaine does look up. “What… why would today be special?” he asks.

“You know, whatever has you this upset,” Sebastian says. “There’s a difference between chronic and acute stress, and you don’t seem like you’re just worn out. More like something happened, or maybe didn’t happen.”

“Does it matter?”

Sebastian is silent for a moment, clearly not too happy with his response. It seems like he’s fighting with himself whether he wants to say something or not, and Blaine really hopes he doesn’t. Sebastian never understood his relationship, the occasional comments on it making that much obvious, even when he clearly was holding back.

Eventually, he sighs. “You deserve better than this.”

Blaine stares at him, and the idea feels just so foreign to him. Maybe he was indignant before, but any high ground he might have had, he’s given it up today. He isn’t even sure where Sebastian is taken this faith in him from.

And maybe it’s that thought that makes him take out his phone. He knows he doesn’t deserve better, doesn’t in fact even deserve the kindness Sebastian is showing him right now. And maybe it’s time to be honest about it.

He opens the text conversation with Eli, glances at the new messages he hasn’t seen yet –several questions where he is, if everything’s okay, if he’s still coming, ending with a “fine, whatever, I’m going out” once it’s become obvious that he isn’t going to show up. Without a comment, he pushes the phone towards Sebastian.

It takes him a few moments to read, but even from the corner of his eyes, Blaine can see his eyebrows going up. Eventually, Sebastian speaks.

“That was a booty call,” he says.

Blaine snorts out a laughter, even though nothing about this is funny. “I know,” he says.

There’s a pause, and he can’t help but sneaking a glance. There’s no judgment in the way Sebastian is looking at him, more bemusement.

“So what?” Sebastian asks eventually. “You finally decide to step out of bounds, and you didn’t call _me_?”

Strangely enough, it hurts. He isn’t even sure what’s the worst of it … the callousness of the statement, the judgment it triggers in his mind – more self-imposed than anything else – or maybe even just the dismissal of their former connection.

“It’s not like that,” Blaine starts, not even sure what to refute, or how.

Either way, Sebastian pushes the phone back into his hands. “That’s exactly it,” he replies. “If you’d called me, you would have to admit to yourself what you’re doing. This, you could tell yourself is just innocent, until you find yourself in his bed or wherever. If you’d called me, you’d have no excuses. You couldn’t have lied to yourself about it.”

Blaine stares at him, wants to defend himself… But really, how can he? It’s not like he hasn’t thought about Sebastian a few times lately, and pushed him out of his mind just as fast. Because he knows Sebastian is dangerous, has always known. He’s played with this fire before, and maybe he would have been burnt if Sebastian hadn’t doused it all in ice…

No, with Sebastian he couldn’t have told himself it was all innocent.

And now, he’s been silent for too long to deny it.

Sebastian nods, slowly. “Thought so,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, even though he doesn’t quite know what he’s sorry for. He feels like he’s been unfair to Sebastian somehow, on top of everything else he’s messed up today. Why does he even get out of bed? It’s like anything he touches turns into disaster.

Something deflates in Sebastian, and he shakes his head. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Blaine replies. “I don’t really know how I could feel worse. Then again… I had that thought like three times today, and it keeps getting worse, so…” he closes his eyes, and his mouth, stops himself from talking. What is he even doing, feeling sorry for himself, when he was just about to cheat on his boyfriend?

Like he’s the victim here.

Sebastian is watching him, and a part of Blaine wants to tell him to stop, to just let him go and sink into self-pity, or nothing, or he doesn’t even know what. But another part of him is latching onto it, because even if he doesn’t allow himself to look completely, he sees enough. There’s warmth in this look, and concern, and he’s starving for it, any form of consideration.

“Is this really worth it?” Sebastian asks finally.

Blaine turns fully, and their eyes meet. There’s not a trace of disgust or contempt in the way Sebastian is looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Look,” Sebastian says, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, “I won’t pretend I’m an expert on relationships, or really know anything about them. But look at yourself. You can’t honestly try and tell me this is you doing well.”

“We’re long distance, it’s always hard,” Blaine replies, repeating words he’s read, and heard, and told himself a million times.

“This hard?” Sebastian replies.

The thing is… Blaine knows, Sebastian is not a neutral party, never has been. If there’s anyone he can’t share any problems in his relationship with, this is it. But who else even bothers, who might understand? And he’s here, and he’s willing to listen, and most importantly, he cares.

So it all comes bursting out. How he’s changed his life, transferred schools and left the safety of Dalton, and he might have told himself it was about facing his old fears, proving himself that he could thrive outside of Dalton’s protective walls, or about reclaiming his individuality, but in the end, of course it was about Kurt. How he’s spent half of last year slowly realizing that they’re running towards a cliff, that Kurt is going to New York and starting a whole new life, and Blaine would be stuck in Ohio, at McKinley, that’s always been Kurt’s space more than his. How he never really took the time to establish himself there, finding friends beyond the general camaraderie of New Directions, volatile as it’s always been, because he and Kurt were on limited time, so of course he focused on his boyfriend. But Kurt… well, he looked towards the future even then. After all, he had something to look forward to. But whenever Blaine tried to bring up his worries, Kurt would just tell him it would be okay, of course they would be fine, they’d have skype, and call and text each other all the time…

But now, Kurt’s gone, and it’s like everything Blaine’s been afraid of has come true. They text, but Kurt’s answers are sporadic, and when they come, they’re all about what’s going on with him, barely even touching on the things Blaine brings up. Their skype calls get rescheduled again and again, Kurt always having something else going on, be it Vogue, or Rachel, or New York. And when they talk, it’s all about Kurt and his new life, and of course Blaine wants to hear about that. But sometimes, he has something to say, too, and it feels like Kurt just isn’t interested in hearing it. It feels like he’s a footnote, like he’s one of the outfits Kurt left hanging in his wardrobe in Ohio – nice enough when he’s here, but nothing he actually needs or cares to have in his new, shining New York life…

When he’s done, he feels exhausted, wrung out… but not better. Not even a little. Instead, so many other thoughts flood into his mind. What was even the point of it all? To leave Dalton, transfer to McKinley for his boyfriend, when Kurt can just turn around and forget he exists? It’s one thing to make an insane, grand romantic gesture for the love of your life, but to then find out how easily you can be forgotten…

Sebastian’s hand closes around him, surprising, warm. Immediately, on instinct, Blaine returns the grasp. He blinks, tries not to cry, but at this point, does it even matter?

“Look, Blaine… I get it. You’re romantic, and you’re stubborn, and you want to make it work against all odds, and reason, or whatever… but you’re not okay.”

“No, I’m not,” Blaine admits, trying to blink away the tears.

This, for some reason, seems to encourage Sebastian, who raises his other hand, hesitates just a moment, before he puts it against Blaine’s cheek. It’s firm, and solid, and comforting in a way Blaine knows he doesn’t deserve.

“You’re hurting,” Sebastian says, stating the obvious. “I know what you said, that sometimes it’s better not to know the truth. And maybe sometimes that’s right, when the truth might hurt you. But that’s not what’s happening right now. Now, not knowing the truth is what’s hurting you.”

The truth… What is the truth Blaine is afraid of? But it only takes him a moment to arrive at the answer, the one question he doesn’t dare to ask, because he is too scared to hear the answer.

Does Kurt love him?

(Has he ever?)

“What if it’s not what I want to hear?” he asks.

“At least you’ll know,” Sebastian says. “And then you can move on. Like ripping off a band-aid.”

And isn’t that what he’s been doing? Isn’t this ultimately why he was out there, getting stranded? Because now, far away from the situation, in Sebastian’s car, like it’s another world, it’s so easy to see what he’s been doing, the clearest example of self-sabotage he can imagine. Because… if he did anything with Eli, he knows Kurt wouldn’t forgive him, would break up with him immediately, but then at least he wouldn’t have to wonder. He’d have something to point to, one action that he could have changed, that led to their break up, and he wouldn’t have to ask himself why Kurt didn’t care enough about him to actually be with him.

He knows, on some level, Sebastian is right. This isn’t healthy. This is destroying him. He’s so tired of not knowing where he stands, of staring at his screen, waiting for Kurt to come online, only to get a short message way too late telling him that his boyfriend is busy and can’t make it, or to talk to Kurt and listen to what feels like hours about the going ons of New York and Vogue and Rachel, and when he tries to talk about how he’s doing, be told that it was late, and Kurt had to go.

This isn’t a relationship, and the shadow of it is drowning him. He knows he can’t go on like this. But what is the alternative? Is it actually better? Or will he feel worse?

“Blaine?”

He looks at Sebastian, back in the present, and nods.

“I’ll think about it,” he says. It’s not much of an admission, but it’s the best he can do for now.

He turns his head, and Sebastian withdraws his hands. The moment between them is broken, but that’s okay. Blaine knows what he has to do.

He unbuckles the seat belt, but before he steps out of the car, he turns towards Sebastian.

“Thank you,” he says, “for the ride, and for… everything.”

There’s more than concern in Sebastian’s expression. He almost looks afraid.

“Will you be okay?” he asks.

Blaine hesitates. What a question… “I don’t know,” he says eventually. “But I’ll try.”

Sebastian takes a moment to weigh the words in his mind, then he nods. “Can I call you?” he asks.

“I’d like that,” Blaine says. “I should get inside now. But thank you, Sebastian. And I’ll talk to you soon.”

The rain hits him, cold and unforgiving, when he steps out of the car and hurries towards the door of his house. He feels utterly exhausted, and he doesn’t have the least bit of hope. Today is certainly one of the worst days in his life… but looking back, maybe things have gone wrong in just the right way, and he knows, he could have felt so much worse.

Most importantly, the day is over. And maybe, that’s as much of a silver lining as he can hope for today.

* * *

_then_

The summer had passed, and at the end of it, Blaine put on a bowtie and sunglasses, took a deep breath, and walked into his new school, throwing himself into it like it was an adventure, hoping for the best. In the end, his romantic dreams had won out, and surprisingly, his mother had been on board quickly. He knew his father was not happy about this, maybe unhappy about Blaine deciding to attend school with his boyfriend, and in that case, his opinion held no merit anyway. Blaine decided to push all doubts out of his mind, because, well… he’d started this. There was no going back now, so he might as well make the best of it.

That turned out to be a bit more complicated than expected. New Directions weren’t exactly the found family he’d been promised, with all the infighting and rivalries, going on, the group even fracturing, more tensions about the musical, the distribution of solos, the weird leadership hierarchies… It had never been this complicated at Dalton, to the point that he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to just stay. Or, well, easier.

That was, of course, until he met Sebastian. So much for less complicated.

Kurt didn’t like Sebastian, and Blaine couldn’t help feel a little guilty from time to time about just how much he talked to the new Warbler. In conversation, he tended to play it off, brought up things that Sebastian told him as “the guys”, “the Warblers”. After all, it wasn’t that surprising that he kept in touch with his old friends and teammates. He didn’t need to analyze that the person he stayed in touch with the most was someone he hadn’t even been in a team with. But in a way, it was easier to talk to Sebastian. With him, Blaine was free to vent and just be himself. With Kurt, he still felt like he had to be careful not to be too critical of New Directions to not hurt his feelings of loyalty. With the other Warblers, he felt like he couldn’t be quite open about the good or the bad at McKinley, the positives feeling like a criticism of Dalton, and the negatives points just inviting the question, why he even transferred in the first place if his new school was this awful.

With Sebastian, there was no baggage, no expectations he had to fulfill. With him, Blaine wasn’t the former lead singer, or someone to look up to, and he certainly wasn’t “the boyfriend”, or “the transfer”. He could just be himself, and Sebastian listened, and seemed amused, and found him interesting.

It was nice. And as long as Blaine made sure to keep boundaries, it actually _was_ harmless.

Today, they had actually met up at Dalton, Sebastian complaining about a History essay he had to write, when his teacher was driving him crazy. Blaine could understand the feeling, it had taken him months to finally get behind just what Mr. Williams wanted to read in essays. After that, though, History had been smooth sailing.

They’d gotten coffee at the Dalton café, enjoying a few last sunrays of fall, before returning to Sebastian’s dorm room to work on their respective homework, while exchanging stories about sectionals, complaints about school, and vague ideas on what to do in the future.

Blaine was done first, not that it was too surprising. Compared to Dalton, the academic expectations at McKinley were certainly more… relaxed. Mostly, it was nice having to do less work. Only sometimes, when he thought of college applications, he did get second thoughts on whether the transfer would turn out as such a good idea in the future, but he usually managed to push them away just as fast as they came.

He turned his head, to where Sebastian was lounging on an armchair. The Warbler could have stepped out of an ad, all long lines, carefully relaxed pose, his hair just a bit tousled from running his hand through it while concentrating, a pen in his hand, and his eyes focused on the book.

Blaine quickly looked away, once he realized he was getting a bit too close to the flame. His eyes darted anywhere, landing on the bookshelf. There were some familiar titles, a mix of fictional and non-fictional books. On the top shelf, there were a few French titles he couldn’t quite discern, although he recognized the name Sartre, and could actually figure out a few titles just from the Italian he knew. One book stood out, though – smaller and bright than the others, and he could see the cartoonish drawing of a little blond boy at the bottom of the spine. Curious, he got up and walked closer.

Le Petit Prince, he read, and there was no need to translate that. He knew about it, though he couldn’t quite remember if he’d read it or heard it as a child. Curious, he pulled the book out.

Sebastian looked up at him, not expecting him to move. When Blaine looked back to him, there was just the slightest color on his cheeks. It took him a moment to recognize the expression as embarrassment.

“Can you pretend you didn’t see that?” he asked. “You know, I have a reputation and stuff…”

“Sorry, bit late for that,” Blaine replied, shaking his head. “The cat’s out of the bag. Sebastian Smythe has a sentimental side. Just imagine what I can do with this knowledge?”

Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. “You could literally ask anything of me, to keep _that_ secret. So, you know…” His eyes roamed down Blaine’s form, at least toeing the line if not stepping over it. “Get creative.”

Blaine turned away, letting his thumb stroke over the spine of the book. This wasn’t something he’d encourage, but it wasn’t serious enough to draw attention to it. Just a line, from someone way too used to flirting his way through the world. Instead, he focused on the book. It looked worn, old, but well taken care of.

“How long have you had this?”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian replied. “I think I was in second grade? It was a gift from my grandparents.”

Blaine perked up, and suddenly, this was more interesting. Sebastian had mentioned his mother’s family living in Paris, how his maternal grandparents had become his main caretakers once his mother had taken him and his sister to Paris several years ago, not bothering to mention to either of them that there was no return ticket. He hadn’t talked about them much, but the impression Blaine had gotten wasn’t exactly warm. He thought to his own grandparents, on his father’s side especially, of his grandmother reading him stories, and of course, of the book.

“I used to read it to myself,” Sebastian continued, “being all proud of being bilingual, and then my sister would show up and correct my pronunciation on every second word.”

“That sounds slightly annoying,” Blaine said. It was a contrast to the few times he’d heard Sebastian mention his sister, always sounding a bit softer than usual.

“You should have seen me, I was worse,” Sebastian replied with a shrug. “Besides, it paid off. We visited them in Paris for Christmas that year, and they made me read it out loud. So then Colette had to listen the whole evening how they praised me for my French, and criticized her for being too American for wearing a mini skirt.”

“That’s… awful,” Blaine said, looking at him in what he hoped wasn’t open horror.

“Hey, I never said my grandparents were nice people,” Sebastian replied. “But… well, this was kind of my first book. The first that really was mine. So… you know.”

“Yeah… I kind of get that,” Blaine said. “I had a book like that, too. It wasn’t mine. Should have become mine, but…” He shook his head, not sure if he was oversharing, if Sebastian was really interested in hearing such a dumb story.

“What was it?”

“Little Lord Fauntleroy,” Blaine answered.

“Ah. Very American,” Sebastian said.

“It’s about British aristocracy,” Blaine said, not sure why he felt this urge to defend the book.

“And about how a little American boy comes over and shows them all the error of their ways,” Sebastian said, not missing a beat. “Why is it special to you?”

“My grandmother used to read it to me,” Blaine said. “It was our thing. She always told me, when she died, she’d leave me this book, and she’d write a letter, right onto the first page. She’d tease me sometimes about what she’d write, but it always started the same. Blaine, Dearest.”

“Cute,” Sebastian said. “So… is she still kicking around?”

“No, actually. She died two years ago,” Blaine said. “I was in the hospital at the time, and by the time I was released, my idiot brother had given it away to some antique shop he couldn’t remember. I haven’t found it since.”

Sebastian frowned, mustering him. “Didn’t he know about the letter?”

“I… maybe he heard it once or twice, but obviously, it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind,” Blaine said.

“And he didn’t look inside?” Sebastian asked. “And didn’t remember where he brought the books? Or the general direction? I mean… how many antique shops are there where you live? Shouldn’t you have found it by now?”

Blaine turned, surprised at the questions. They were valid, of course, and he felt insecure in answering them.

“It’s not like I went through every antique shop immediately. Just, when I pass one, I check. Sometimes.”

If he’d hoped it would deflect further questions, the increasing frown on Sebastian’s forehead told him otherwise.

“So… why not? If it was so sentimental to you? Did you not want to know?”

Blaine avoided his eyes, looking back towards the books instead. “Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth, don’t you think?”

“I don’t, actually,” Sebastian said. “I think it’s better to know what you’re dealing with. Like right now, I’d love to know what kind of hornets’ nest of memories I stumbled into – if only to know how to avoid it in the future.”

It was stupid, but really, it couldn’t hurt, and Sebastian seemed to be actually interested. So, Blaine put the book back into the shelf and walked over to the bed, plopping down on it and facing Sebastian again.

“When she died… it was not that long after I’d come out,” he explained. “That’s actually kind of why I was in the hospital.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, clearly remembering an earlier conversation, but he didn’t comment, didn’t interrupt.

“In the weeks before… I didn’t really see her. I mean, it’s not like I visited her every week. But often enough that it became… noticeable. She was suddenly busy. Or when I called her, she had to go somewhere, do something… I think she was avoiding me. And I told myself again and again, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just coincidence, that I was imagining things… But yeah, I don’t think she knew how to deal with it. So… basically, there’s a chance that when she died…” He stopped, not even knowing how to finish the sentence. He wasn’t quite sure what it was he feared – that she died hating him, not loving him anymore, not seeing him as her grandson? “Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I was right, but she’d written up the letter before. Or maybe she changed it. Or maybe she never even got around to it. A part of me wants to know, even though I’m aware that even if I found the book, I wouldn’t _really_ know. But a part of me… would rather take the uncertainty.”

Sebastian frowned, clearly not quite on the same page.

“You disagree?” Blaine asked.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Sebastian said. “My grandparents lost their shit when I came out. Well, on my mother’s side at least. It sucked, but… well, now I know where I stand with them. It gives you a certain amount of freedom.”

“The truth will set you free?” Blaine suggested.

“Or cuts you loose, in my case,” Sebastian said with a shrug, “I’ll take it over being tied down by a lie or uncertainty. Then again… it won’t really make a difference in your case, will it? She’s gone, all you have are your memories. I get it if you want to view them in the best light possible.”

“I do miss her,” Blaine said. “But yeah. It’s not that easy. But thank you. For listening. I don’t think I ever told anyone about this part.”

“Anytime, killer,” Sebastian said, winking at him. “Now, stop playing coy and tell me what Williams wants to hear. I need this essay thing to be over.”

* * *

_now_

There’s a spot on the ceiling, a little black dot. Dirt, maybe, although Blaine isn’t quite sure how it could have gotten there… as he stares at it, the spot moves towards the corner. A spider then. Great.

He feels paralyzed, as his mind is still processing the events of today. He wishes he could just fall asleep, pretend the day never happened, or even better, turn back time and just make better decisions.

Sebastian’s words ring in his ears, too clear, too true.

This isn’t sustainable. Every day is getting harder, and he feels… forgotten. Invisible. Like he doesn’t matter, and never has. He knows he has a tendency to build things up in his head, until they’re larger than life. But this… it feels different.

Ripping off a band aid, that’s what Sebastian had said. But what would that look like?

He’d have to talk to Kurt, tell him how he’s feeling – like he doesn’t even have a boyfriend, or like he’s a purse that Kurt put back on the shelf, now that it doesn’t match his current outfit. And maybe he’s being uncharitable, but… he’s hurting. And it drives him crazy that he knew this was going to happen, he talked to Kurt about it, only to be pacified with promises of regular skype calls, visits, that the year would be gone in the blink of an eye and they’d be together.

He has to tell Kurt everything, including what almost happened. But how is he even supposed to do that, when he can’t get Kurt’s attention for long enough to even tell him about something like the student council election?

Unless…

There’s no hanging up on someone standing in front of you. Sure, one could slam the door, but Blaine isn’t too worried about that. It makes sense. If he wants Kurt to listen, he has to go there, physically be there, and _make_ him listen.

The plan is set, but he’s still scared. Because… what outcome can he really hope for? If he puts it all out there… will Kurt take him seriously? Or will he just hear more of the same, empty promises that ring nice, but change nothing? How can he even make Kurt see?

Or worse… what if Kurt hears him, and understands and believes the problem – and then decides it isn’t worth the effort? What if Kurt agrees that this isn’t working and breaks up with him?

He imagines it, standing in New York, far away from home, and alone. To return to Ohio, knowing that the relationship is over just because he forced the issue? Wouldn’t that be worse than this?

His eyes fall to the bag, where the book is still packed away. And suddenly, breathing becomes harder. He gets up, and like he’s a puppet on a string, walks to his bag. He takes the book out, the cover in his hands at the same time familiar and strange. A part of him wants to throw it away, rejects it on an almost instinctive level. It’s been years since he’s seen the book, he doesn’t even know if it’s the same.

It has to be, though, and it does feel familiar in his hands. And the letter is in there. All he has to do is open it, and find out what his grandmother thought of him.

But that is an unknown that isn’t hurting him, that he hardly thinks of. Focusing on this won’t help him deal with what’s really bothering him. And this… this purgatory…

God, it would hurt if things ended, he can’t even fathom how much, but he can say this much at least. It will be absolutely awful.

But it’s awful already, and he can’t go on like this.

“The truth will cut you loose,” he says to himself, echoing Sebastian’ words from almost a year ago.

He knows what he has to do. Still, he puts the book onto his shelf, without opening it.

One step at a time. And maybe, if he’s solved the mess his relationship has become, if searching for the truth actually works out for him, he’ll go back. And just maybe, then he’ll be ready for his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on tumblr as imogenlefay


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